


The Right Kind of Sinner

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_sexstars, M/M, Mpreg, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only a few hard and fast rules of the streets, and in the few months he’s been hooking, Scorpius has learned them all. Never bareback. Never give out a freebie. Never let your heart get involved. Never assume you’re more than a fuck. Never assume your john is single. Then along comes one night with James Potter, and Scorpius breaks all those rules and ends up risking everything, with no guarantee he’ll get anything in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to singlemomsummer and eternaleponine for their beta work for this piece. Originally written for the hp_sexstars community on Livejournal. JK Rowling owns these characters, I just have a ton of fun writing them.

_7 September_

Nothing had prepared Scorpius Malfoy for the reality of life after Hogwarts. He had done well in school, and he had been raised to believe that he would live like a king when he finished his seventh year. But when he came home that final time, he learned that his family was bankrupt, and that Draco only supported Astoria because he still owned the family manor outright. They had nothing to spare, and certainly nothing to set Scorpius up in London the way he wished, living an indolent lifestyle.

But Scorpius was determined to have the life he had chosen, and after an argument with his parents, he left without looking back, determined to prove that he could survive London on his own.

At the end of the first month he was hungry, and had yet to find a place to live.

When he was approached by an older gentleman, it occurred to him that he might be able to set himself up as a kept boy, with a rich allowance. But while the gentleman was certainly flush with cash, and paid well in foreign Muggle coin, he wasn’t rich enough to keep Scorpius permanently. But resourceful as ever, Scorpius found his way to Boys’ Town and set himself up on a corner. After a few months he had a room in a flat he shared with two other young men, and access to a shared rental space where he could take his johns. He was hungry, yes, and skinnier than he had ever been in school, and perhaps his clothes weren’t the best, but he was surviving.

A chill came into the air as September started, but Scorpius didn’t bother with a shirt. He might be slender, but he knew the image he made, with the swath of pale skin stretched over lean muscle, a small ring looped through his left nipple. His hair was long enough that it fell past his shoulders, half obscuring his face as he peered out past it, pale lashes blinking under the street light as cars slowed down. It was a slow night, as if the school year starting brought the reminder of family to the men who usually visited Boys’ Town, taking them away. Scorpius stood proud anyway, waiting. He knew someone would come. Someone always did.

He watched the bloke as he made his way down the street, shoulders hunched in a heavy overcoat, dark hair tousled in the wind, the face barely peering out from around the high collar of the coat. Nervous, Scorpius decided. Worried that someone might spot him. Recognize him. As if anyone on the corner would bother to talk. Who would they tell? Trying to tell the press about the politicians or celebrities who came through earned them nothing, but lost them everything. It wasn’t worth it.

The bloke stopped, looking for a long moment at Wilson, but as soon as the boy spoke in his thick London accent, the bloke moved on, ignoring the gesture Wilson shot at his back. Scorpius smirked and tossed his hair back, shifting to show himself more as he moved under the pale spotlight from the lamp above.

“Scorpius?”

That voice… Scorpius looked at the bloke before him, really _looked_ at him. “Merlin,” he breathed, the word not quite a sound. He knew this bloke. He’d lived with the bloke’s little brother for years at Hogwarts. He’d endured the teasing during holiday visits, both good-natured brotherly teasing, and the more vicious interhouse arguments. Scorpius’ jaw set, refusing to show anything but indolence. “James. Looking to buy?”

A long silence, then the curt words: “How much?”

Scorpius reeled off a list of prices, starting with a wank and leading up to the full night. He watched James count through Muggle money without a bit of familiarity, then simply shove the wad of bills at him. Scorpius didn’t bother to count before shoving them into his waistband. “The night it is. Come with me.”

Scorpius picked a room that stood open, ignoring the sounds coming from rooms shut tight around it. He flipped the _Do Not Disturb_ sign onto the handle, and motioned James inside. As soon as the door closed, Scorpius had his hands on the zipper of James’ trousers. He fell to his knees, pushing the fabric wide, rubbing his cheek against the warm prick already starting to harden.

“You want this terribly,” Scorpius murmured. “Never figured you for a queer.” He tugged down his pants, just letting the prick bob free as he took it into his mouth. Scorpius had figured out months ago that he actually _liked_ this job. He loved playing with people’s minds and feelings, getting them to give wholeheartedly.

“I’m not.” James’ fingers tangled in the long, pale strands, twisting Scorpius’ hair and tugging as James groaned. “I’m not queer.”

Scorpius begged to differ, considering James had his prick down a bloke’s throat and was thrusting like he’d been missing this for decades. Instead he made a low humming noise, vibrating around James’ cock, murmuring as his hands found James’ balls and rolled them gently. James might not be queer, but if Scorpius played his cards right, he had a feeling he could get James to orgasm right now, and make this an easy night.

He opened his throat, gagging slightly as he always did when a john took advantage and thrust in. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but the groan was worth it. James was close, Scorpius knew it. He dragged his finger against the sensitive perineum, and James bucked, shooting bitter liquid against the back of Scorpius’ throat.

He swallowed. He had potions at home, carefully hidden from his roommates, and he took one every night to make sure he didn’t catch a disease. James might be someone he knew, but that didn’t mean he was clean. Scorpius would take the same precautions he took with any other john.

“Fuck.”

Strong hands on his shoulders dragged Scorpius to standing. Arms wrapped around him and he was kissed, hot and hard, as if James would devour him. He was pressed back against the door, trapped between hard wood and the hard body, James wedging Scorpius’ legs apart, his thigh pressing against the ridge of Scorpius’ cock in his tight jeans.

“I paid for the night,” James said, voice low and breathy.

Scorpius nodded.

“That means I can get anything I want, until sunup.” James kissed Scorpius then, teasing him until he groaned loudly.

“Yes,” Scorpius managed to reply. “Anything you want.”

“We’re going to start by getting undressed.” James pulled away, and when Scorpius just stood there, he gestured roughly. “Naked, Scor. Now.”

That was Al’s nickname for him. It had spread through their room in Slytherin, and it was used by most of the team on the Quidditch pitch. But it sounded strange coming from James’ lips like that. Still. Anything James wanted, tonight. Scorpius took the money he’d tucked in his waistband and carefully folded it up to fit in a pocket. Then he skinned off his jeans (no pants beneath of course), letting his own erection bounce free.

He followed James to the bed, kneeling between his knees so he could take his soft prick into his mouth again. For a moment, James let him do so, making small soft pleased noises. Then he tangled his fingers in Scorpius’ hair, gently pulling. “Get up on the bed with me.”

“Don’t you want me to please you?”

“You already did. And do.  But no matter how much you suck me, I’m going to be a few minutes before I’m up again, and when I am…” James leaned in close to whisper, “I am going to fuck you into the sheets, Scorpius Malfoy. I’m going to fuck you until you scream loud enough to be heard three rooms down. I’m going to give you a buggering you’ll never forget.”

Scorpius was no stranger to bottoming. Plenty of men who showed up at the corner claimed they weren’t queer. They claimed a blow job was just a blow job, no matter what kind of mouth they fucked. And they seemed to think that as long as they got to put their prick in someone, it was still basically hetero. Scorpius didn’t bother to correct them, but he knew. And he rolled over and put his pale arse in the air for them, because they paid him so bloody well. Whether he got to get off or not didn’t matter, as long as the john ended up the night happy.

“Drawer of the night stand,” he said, so James would know where to find lube and condoms. Then Scorpius stretched out on the bed, his back to James.

It seemed strange to have James stretch out behind him, fingers ghosting over his nipples. James found the nipple ring and tugged until Scorpius cried out, hips bucking in response. James chuckled, fingers drifting lower. “Never realized just how sensitive you were. Makes me wonder just how quickly I could make you go off if I wanted to. If I got down on my knees and used my mouth on you. Wouldn’t take long, would it?”

They never thought about how Scorpius felt. They never cared whether he came or not. But James… James had one fist wrapped around Scorpius’ prick, wanking him in slow motion. Fingers coated in lube pressed into his arse, opening him up, and he moaned, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Thought you were going to fuck me,” he prodded. He was rewarded by the slow thrust of a mostly hard prick against his ass.

“In a minute. And it won’t be a short fuck, either,” James promised. “Plenty of staying power, now that it’s my second go.”

He worked Scorpius, curling his fingers to stroke inside of him. It seemed like a cruel game, as James tried to get Scorpius off and Scorpius fought to keep control, not wanting to let go until he knew James was done with him. Scorpius whimpered and made a low mewling noise as he writhed under James’ touch, until finally James lifted him up to his knees and pressed into him.

Better than fingers. Better than anything, as James pulled out and thrust again. It started off slow and gentle, but every time Scorpius moaned, James picked up the pace, until he was ramming into Scorpius so fast that James’ balls slapped against his ass.

He wasn’t going to be able to do it. Scorpius couldn’t keep control, couldn’t stop himself. Each drag of the prick against his prostate had him shivering, shaking with the intensity of it all. The world went grey as he screamed, body tensing, clenching around James in a rhythmic pulse as Scorpius’ orgasm exploded. He shot all over the sheets, leaving a sticky mess that he collapsed into when he was done, unable to keep himself upright any longer.

He felt James tense behind him, then a low groan as he came in Scorpius’ ass.

They lay there for a long time, and Scorpius drifted in a haze that wasn’t quite sleep but wasn’t entirely awake, either. He realized that at some point, they had rolled together, James spooned behind him, cock still buried in his arse. And James was starting to thrust again, hand working Scorpius’ prick until they were both frantically thrusting, fucking for all they were worth until the world exploded all over again.

This time when the world went dark, it stayed that way, and Scorpius slept for a time. When he woke, James was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_13 October_

In October, Scorpius resorted to a subtle warming charm. It kept him from having to wrap his arms around himself and move in order to stay warm, but wouldn’t be noticeable (he hoped) to anyone around him. He couldn’t afford to be caught by the Ministry doing magic around Muggles. It would never do for a Malfoy to lose what little face the family had left. Not to mention that he couldn’t afford to pay any fines that would be levied against him.

He sat on the stoop, clad in tight denim, one leg bent, thin arms wrapped around it. He was thinner than he’d been a month ago, but he hadn’t been eating well. Cheap Muggle food didn’t sit well with him, leaving him nauseated more often than not. He longed for a good glass of pumpkin juice or a butterbeer, anything to remind him of home. 

“Scorpius!”

His head snapped up at the sound of the voice, familiar yes, but also his _name_. He didn’t use his name on the streets, preferring to go by _Boy_ or nothing at all. If they forced a name out of him he usually said to call him Sam, which had nothing at all to do with reality or anyone he knew. Hearing _his_ name meant, even before he recognized the voice, that it was someone from home.

He hated that realizing it was James calling to him made his pulse thud loudly in his ears, body waking up and _wanting_. He never wanted. He couldn’t afford to. He had to stay aloof, make them daydream about having him on his knees, about them forcing him to submit. He couldn’t afford to want anything for himself.

But Scorpius wanted James again. He wanted that one night back, where someone else had cared how he felt. He wanted another night where someone helped him get off, tried to make him get off first. He had been starting to think he’d never have that again.

Not that he could say it out loud. Scorpius pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the looks the others gave him. Eventually, they’d come up with their own reasons for the name, he figured. He wouldn’t bother to try to tell them anything. Instead he walked up to James and stood there, one hip cocked, arms crossed, sharp chin tilted. “Don’t call me that,” he said in a low voice. “No one uses names out here.”

“Names have power,” James nodded.

“Yeah,” Scorpius agreed, although it wasn’t anything like that. James thought he meant magic, but in this world, the name was just a link to the past that most of them had willingly left behind. “Did you want something?”

“You.” James shoved a wad of bills at him. “For the night.”

Scorpius felt that thud again in his chest, then the quick rush of pleasure. He shrugged lazily as he took the money, glanced at the thickness of the stack, then tucked it down the front of his too-tight jeans. “Sure. That’s enough for the night.” He put his arm behind James’ waist and started to walk.

He paused, confused, when James pulled away from him. “Not sex this time,” James said.

Oh. Scorpius’ lips pursed and he shrugged again as if it didn’t matter. “Make a show of it anyway,” he said, putting his arm back around James again. “I have a reputation.”

James waited until they were out of view of the corner this time before he put distance between them. “It’s not that the sex wasn’t good,” he said. “It was brilliant. But I’ve got a girlfriend.”

“So?” Scorpius crossed his arms again, feeling the chill slip in as his warming charm started to wear off. “Half the guys who fuck me are married. She doesn’t need to know.”

“I’d know.” James shoved his hands in the pocket of his duster, then frowned as he glanced over at Scorpius. He shrugged out of the long coat and held it out. “Here.”

“White Knight Potter,” Scorpius said, tone snide. “Are you paying me to try to save me tonight? Is that it? It’s too late for that. I’ll give you your money back and you can go home to your girlfriend, and I’ll go back to my corner and work.”

“It’s not that.” James grabbed his shoulder, forcing Scorpius to look at him. “You’re cold. And no, I’m not embarrassed that you’re half naked, but since I’m taking you somewhere to eat, you might want to put something on. You’re skin and bones.”

“And you’re still trying to save me.” But the heat was gone from Scorpius’ voice. “Where are we going?”

“This place called Madame Morgana’s.” James waited until Scorpius shrugged into the duster, then put his hand back on his elbow to guide him. “It’s Muggle, but not really. Most of us eat there when we have to do shifts out in Muggle London, because she knows how to treat us the way we’re used to.”

“Like princes?” Scorpius poked.

“Like Wizards and Witches. It’s a Muggle menu, but she’ll bring out a butterbeer if she knows you’re wizarding. Better food than most Muggle places, too.” James steered him down a street and out into a completely different part of London as Scorpius felt the tingle of magic over his skin. He wasn’t sure what the exact gateway spell was, but there had to be something there.

“Who’s _us_?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

Scorpius gestured with his other hand. “You said _most of us_ eat there. So who’s _us_?”

James hesitated, as if he weren’t sure he wanted to answer, then said slowly, “Aurors. Us Aurors.”

“Ah. I didn’t know you took after your father.” Scorpius thought that Albus would’ve mentioned, but it occurred to him that his ex-roommate rarely mentioned his older brother at all. Maybe all of that school boy teasing had driven a wedge between the two Potter boys. Not that Scorpius had seen Albus much since Hogwarts as it was.

“It made Dad happy.” James let go of Scorpius to get the door to a restaurant and pull it open. “It’s not a bad job. It’s fun sometimes, and hard work the rest. Aurora likes my uniform.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “And your girlfriend getting off on it is a great reason to keep a job.”

“At least I’ve got a good job,” James said, and Scorpius stopped just inside the door.

“My job’s fine,” he said dryly. “Most importantly, it’s _my_ job, and it doesn’t matter what you think about it. You seemed to think I did it well enough last time I saw you.”

Dead silence as they chose a table, James pulling out a chair for Scorpius before he took his own seat. The waitress stopped over to bring water and menus, and after a brief conversation with James, she handed them both a single sheet of specials and walked away. Pumpkin ravioli. Sweet spiced butterbeer. Flavors that made Scorpius think of home and Hogwarts, and had him salivating like nothing else had in the last few weeks.

“You’re having sex for money, Scorpius.” James leaned on the table. “That’s dangerous. Think of the risks.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “I’m safe. I have the johns use a condom. There are rules, Potter.” Don’t bareback. Don’t fall in love. And a whole host of others as well. He followed them religiously, because that was what kept him sane.

“It’s Potter now?” James sat back as the waitress returned with two spiced butterbeers and set them on the table along with a basket of pumpkin bread. He ordered for the two of them, a series of specials that Scorpius hadn’t had in months.

“If you say your girlfriend’s better than me, it’s not going to be James,” Scorpius said dryly, all too aware that a petulant note snuck into his voice. He grabbed the butterbeer and took a long gulp, feeling the warmth of it straight down to his gut. The spice left an unexpected aftertaste that made him sneeze. He looked at the glass strangely. “She spices it wrong,” he muttered.

“She spices it perfectly. You’re just too much of a snob to admit it.” James took a gulp of his own, setting it down. His attention on Scorpius was intent. “This _job_ isn’t good for you. You’re scrawny and you’re probably on drugs.”

Scorpius held the glass of butterbeer cradled in both hands, inhaling the spicy scent. There was something _wrong_ with it, something that turned his stomach abruptly. He felt his stomach roll, and swallowed hard, trying not to let this happen. Not here, not now. “I’m not on drugs,” he muttered, glaring at James. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m still a Malfoy.”

“That’s my _point_.” James jabbed a finger at Scorpius. “Malfoys are proud. They don’t fuck for money.”

Scorpius winced, his stomach rolling again. “Lower your voice,” he said, his own voice strained as he tried to keep this from happening here and now.

“I’m not yelling. But you have to listen to me, Scorpius. You—”

“No, I don’t.” Scorpius interrupted him, standing abruptly. He wondered if he was green as he swallowed hard, tasting bitter acid. “I don’t have to listen to anything. I—” Fuck. Scorpius clapped a hand over his mouth and looked quickly. Not sure where the loo was, he instead darted to the door, just barely making it outside before he bent over and lost what little there was in his stomach. The spices in the butterbeer tasted worse on the way back up.

He fell to his knees and stayed there on the hard ground, stomach aching, shoulders heaving. He’d left James’ coat on the chair, and the warming spell was long gone, and after a moment he started to shiver. Scorpius wrapped his arms around his center as the heaves came again. “Merlin,” he groaned.

A hand on his shoulder as James dropped to his knees beside him. “What are you taking?” James asked softly. “I’ll take you to St. Mungo’s, have them get it out of your system. Or to a Muggle hospital if that’s what you need. But if it’s making you this ill, you ought to see someone before you’re even more skin and bones than you already are.”

Scorpius gritted his teeth, forcing his rebellious stomach to obey. “I am _not_ using drugs,” he ground out. “And I don’t need your help. Go back to Aurora. Tell her I said hello if you’d like. But go bang your bloody girlfriend and forget all about me. It was just a _fuck_.” The word felt so good on his tongue. Freeing as he put their encounter in proper perspective. Don’t get involved. He couldn’t afford to break the rules. “I’ll be fine here on my own.”

James came to his feet as Scorpius did, but Scorpius managed to step backwards and stay out of his grasp. He wrapped his arms around himself and turned, stumbling off. Let the people watching think he was drunk, or crazy, or diseased. Scorpius didn’t care. He just wanted to get somewhere safe to apparate close to his own flat, so he could rest. This would all blow over soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

_19 October_

Scorpius had been sick for a week. It was the worst case of the stomach flu he could ever remember having, and he was wondering if something—that damned butterbeer at Madame Morgana’s—had given him food poisoning. It didn’t bother him as long as he slept, and first thing in the morning was the one time he felt his stomach settle. But as soon as he had tea, or a scone, or even a simple croissant, everything turned over, and next thing he knew, he was running for the loo.

His roommates refused to talk to him except through a door, unwilling to catch this flu. He was barred from touching the refrigerator, and they offered him pizza and sandwiches as they tried to keep his germy hands from touching anything they might need.

The worst of it was, it came on the strongest in the evenings, just when Scorpius would be changing into his clothes for the corner, so he could go into Boys’ Town. He hadn’t earned a penny since James almost a week ago. He’d decided he didn’t feel guilty about keeping that money; James was the one who’d said no sex after all. But it was almost out, and he still felt miserable. He needed to find something that would put him back to rights and let him work again, or else he wouldn’t be able to make his share of the rent, meagre though it was.

Scorpius dressed carefully, using small, quick bursts of magic to make his jeans a bit baggier than usual, and let his t-shirt be something looser than a second skin. He dug into his closet and found the robes he’d tucked far in the back. They were wrinkled, but a quick steaming spell put that to rights. He tried them on, shaking them out as he checked his appearance in the mirror. With the robes covering most of him, only his face showed just how thin he’d become. The cheekbones were high and pointed, his chin a sharp cut. Grey eyes were dull, without the gleam of silver that people remarked upon. His hair was fine and straight, the hint of gold in the colour giving it some appearance of life, even though it was entirely without body. Perhaps while he was at the apothecary he’d purchase some new conditioner, something properly magical. It could only help him at his job.

That was assuming he could ever get back out to his corner again.

He shrugged out of the robes and threw on a denim jacket instead, tossing the robes over one arm like a loose pile of black fabric. Curious folks might see a coat, carried instead of worn, if they looked. It was enough to let him get through Muggle London and enter Diagon Alley safely. But he needed the robes for Diagon; he didn’t want to be picked out of a crowd there. He just wanted to blend in.

In the months since leaving Hogwarts, Scorpius had become oddly fond of traveling around Muggle London. He liked the anonymous bustle of the tube, waiting with a crowd for the train to pull up and stepping across the gap and into the belly of the metal beast. The rumble under his feet was one of the few things that didn’t upset his equilibrium lately, and for a moment he considered just spending the day on the train reading quietly. But that wouldn’t help once he left it, and wouldn’t gain him any money. No, he needed to run this errand, no matter how oddly peaceful it was to sit and sway with the motion of the train, surrounded by strangers.

He went into Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, the hood of his robes up, his thin hands tucked inside the sleeves of his robes, and his head down. He knew the way to the Apothecary and walked quickly, the snap of his robes familiar around his ankles. He missed this, in some way, he knew he missed it. This was his world, after all, not that place with smoke and dust and strange smells. But at the same time, this was the place where he no longer fit, where his family had no money and where his name was worth less than he’d ever believed. He pushed open the door to the Apothecary, wincing slightly at the loud ring of the bell. A quick glance showed him no one else in the shop, and he relaxed slowly, pushing his hood back as he looked over the shelves to find something for nausea.

“Scorpius!”

The cheerful voice was a surprise, and he turned without thinking and watched as Melisande Longbottom’s mouth went into a small O. She hurried out from behind the counter, her white robes flapping about her legs as she rushed up to him. “Oh, you look _awful_. Are you ill? I hadn’t heard anything from you in so long. No one has, and Albus has been asking around but no one’s had _word_ of you.”

Scorpius blinked, for a long moment unsettled by the onrush of friendship and enthusiasm. “Melisande,” he said, tone more than a little sharp. “Don’t hover. I don’t require mothering.”

“No, I suppose you don’t.” The girl stepped back a bit, one hand still out. “I suppose you get quite enough of that from your mother. She was always a bit cloying, wasn’t she? You know Mum has asked after you.”

“Your mother barely knows me.”

Melisande huffed a sigh. “And you know that doesn’t mean anything to my mum. You were my yearmate, and my housemate, so of course she thinks of you. She’s taken Albus in, you know. He wanted to move out, but didn’t have a place, so he’s staying at the Leaky for now.”

Which meant Scorpius needed to take an alternate route back into Muggle London. He didn’t want to run into Albus right now. He wasn’t ready to explain to his old best mate what he was doing now, nor did he want the reminder of James. “I hadn’t heard,” he said. “I’ve been busy with a special project, and as you can see,” he added pointedly, “I’ve been ill.”

“Oh. Right.” Melisande’s round features quickly shifted to a worried look. “What can I help you find? I’ve been working here just a month, but I’ve had to put away just about everything at some time or another.”

Scorpius schooled his expression to be carefully bland and professional. “I need an antiemetic potion.”

“Right over here.” Melisande led him to a shelf in the back where bottles sat of different sizes and colours. “These are the potions which are available without seeing a healer. Although I wouldn’t recommend this one.” She lifted a tiny vial which had in bold letters to take no more than one drop. “I’ve heard several people say they have terrible reactions to it. One came out all over in purple spots, although I suppose he wasn’t ill anymore after, so that was a plus. This one is fairly mild, and seems to help most folks.” She handed him a larger bottle which said to take one spoonful at breakfast with tea. “It’s even safe enough for all our expectant mothers to use.”

Scorpius skewered her with a look, and she coughed. “Er. Not that you’re expecting,” she stammered. “Or a mother. It’s terribly obvious you’ve been ill.” At another look, she flushed brightly. “I didn’t mean like that, Scor. Bloody hell, but you know you’ve been missed, right? When you’re feeling better you ought to come out to the Leaky some night and have dinner with me and Albus. You should.”

Why was it that everyone he saw seemed to think they knew what he ought to be doing? Scorpius dug into his pockets, reaching deep to find the few galleons he had. Pinching two between his thumb and forefinger, he held them out to her. “It was good to see you, Melisande, but I must be going. Ill as I am, work still calls.”

There was a part of him which felt bad about the look on her face, hurt and soft, as he gave her the coins and turned away. But he didn’t feel well, and he didn’t want someone else to take him to task about his life after Hogwarts. He lifted his chin, pasting on the Malfoy haughty expression, and swept from the shop, robes snapping brightly.

He stopped as soon as he left the shop, taking a moment to breathe deeply. The potion said to take it early with tea, and it was neither early nor did he have tea, but he took a small gulp of it anyway, just to get the process started. He’d take it properly tomorrow. If it was that mild, it shouldn’t have any poor effects to take it on its own.

Tucking the bottle into the pocket of his robes, he walked along Diagon Alley, trying not to let anyone catch his eye. He didn’t need another school chum trying to chat him up and make sure he was doing alright. He was _fine_. What he needed was to get home, cleaned up, and with any luck get back to work so he could forget about the hell that the last week had been.

He was so intent on not being noticed that he almost didn’t see James at first. He heard _her_. The girlfriend. Not that he had anything against her. She was Scorpius’ yearmate, and a Gryffindor, so he supposed that she and James must’ve fallen for each other long before. Or maybe it was new. Either way, there they were, standing on the street by a tea shop. James had her hands in his, and she gazed up at him with a soft smile. He kissed her fingertips, then drew her in close, arms wrapping around her.

Scorpius didn’t want to watch, but at the same time, he couldn’t manage to turn away.  There was something sickeningly sweet about it, James kissing her so softly, as if he thought she might break. Proper almost, if he ignored the fact that James likely had his tongue down her throat. Passion, he supposed. But nothing frantic, nothing needy. He didn’t hear anything from James, nothing like that groaning sound of _want_ the other man had made when they were in bed together. 

He wanted to walk up to them both and say hello, just to see if James reacted.

At the same time, he didn’t want to be noticed, absolutely sure that naked hunger had to be on his face.

Scorpius swallowed hard and pulled his hood up. When he walked by, he didn’t look at them. Either of them. After all, it was only one night, and it was in the past. Scorpius Malfoy didn’t need James Potter at all.


	4. Chapter 4

_19 November_

There was no better way to put it: Scorpius was getting fat. He blamed the rich food in the pubs (cheap and easily accessible, now that he could stomach it) and the lack of Quidditch. It was ridiculous how just a month ago everyone was telling him he was all skin and bones, and now when he turned sideways to look at his reflection, there was a distinct paunch forming just at the waist. He tried standing up straight and properly sucking his gut in, but it didn’t change the gentle rounding of his belly. He frowned, and tried again.

Nothing seemed to work.

Even his john had noticed it earlier that night, commenting on the softening of his profile. Scorpius had done his best not to growl at him; he couldn’t afford to burn his bridges with any client. But he didn’t like that someone _liked_ him getting fat. He wondered if it were some spell that had been cast upon him, making him always hungry for vile foods (ever since his stomach flu finally faded, he’d been starving all the time), and making him _fat_.

“S’not working, mate.” His roommate stood in the doorway, watching him. “Time to lay off the bloody pints, yeah? Elsewise you’ll never get pulled. Least s’not gone to your face.”

Scorpius frowned, looking more closely in the mirror. He was right, the features that stared back were as thin and sharp as ever, all angles and edges. Softer, just a bit, than he had been at the depths of his illness, but not as soft as his thickening center might make one expect. He waved his roommate off, and once he was alone again he stretched his arms up high over his head. Yes, ribs still showed when he stretched. Not an ounce of fat anywhere except that roundness that lay just above his pelvis.

“If you were a bird, I’d say you had a bump.”

Scorpius threw a dark look at his roommate. “Didn’t I tell you to go?”

The bloke shrugged. “Door’s still open. You look bloody odd, if you ask me.”

“Well I’m not a bird, and it’s not a bump.” Scorpius twisted this way and that, as if he could find the right angle to make the fat disappear. “Whatever a bump is. And no one did ask you.”

“Baby bump,” he said. “S’just like looking at a bird when she’s trying to hide that she’s up the duff.”

No. Oh no, no, no, that couldn’t be possible. “I’m a _bloke_.” Scorpius glared at him. “So _obviously_ I’m not pregnant. Now _go_.”

The roommate went, the door slamming behind him at a thought from Scorpius.

Everything was silent for a moment as Scorpius sucked air in and held it, trying to get oxygen to lungs that felt like he’d gone cold and airless. He knew something that his roommate didn’t, after all. Muggle blokes didn’t get pregnant, but if two wizards fucked, it was possible. There were precautions to take, and he knew those spells, but he’d never bothered to use them. After all, he never pulled wizards.

Except once.

But he’d told James to use a condom. He told all his johns to use a condom.

Scorpius raked his fingers through his long hair, tugging it almost painfully back as he groaned. Or had he? Had he just done the usual and pointed James towards the drawer with the condoms and lube, assuming James would take a condom like all his johns did? No one wanted to get a disease after all.

But James wasn’t a Muggle. Did he even know what a condom was? He’d likely assumed Scorpius used spells against disease (which he did) and against pregnancy (which he didn’t). Why bother, after all, when he never came in contact with wizards?

Scorpius sank down onto the edge of the bed, the palm of one hand covering his face, the other hand dropping to rest against the faintly swelling belly. It was possible. It was more than possible, and it made _sense_ of the illness he’d had. It hadn’t stopped because of the potion. It had stopped because it was simply time for that part of things to stop.

At least Melisande had said the potion was safe for pregnant witches. Scorpius had to hope that meant blokes as well.

Wait. Was he considering keeping this child? That was an impossibility. What would he do with a baby? He couldn’t possibly live like this with a child, but there wasn’t anything else he knew to do. No one wanted to hire a Malfoy in the wizarding world, and he had no skills for the Muggle world other than those in bed.

Right, he couldn’t panic about it yet. First order of business was getting a proper diagnosis. And he couldn’t just nip around to the free clinic all the girls used. No, he had to find what little money he had and see a proper healer. And he had to bring enough to pay them not to say a word. The Malfoy name couldn’t afford a whisper of this scandal. He tried not to think about the fact that it would protect the Potter name, too. That didn’t matter. James didn’t matter.

Scorpius dug through his bureau and closet, searching everywhere for enough cash to change into proper galleons. He dressed more warmly than usual, realizing he needed to let out his jeans just a bit, and he let his t-shirt hang loosely over the waist to conceal the faint bump. He didn’t feel like bothering with robes today; he hated the way they were heavy against his skin, and he realized he’d been irritable about little things like that for days.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it the entire way to the healer. He was pregnant. He was going to have a baby and he had no money, no way of feeding himself, let alone a child. There was a part of him that hoped he was wrong, that it was something else, some growth that was trying to kill him because that might be easier to handle than a child. 

He avoided the Leaky Cauldron, remembering that Albus had been staying there. That was the last thing he needed, to have to tell his best mate that his brother might’ve impregnated him. Instead he took a back route in, through Knockturn Alley. He kept his chin up, acting as if he wore proper robes even though he knew he looked like a Muggleborn visitor rather than a pureblood.

He threatened his way into an appointment, and finally sat in the examining room, his boxers slung low on his hips and not a stitch on other than that. It was cold, but Scorpius fought not to shiver, and fought not to think about the warm fingers touching him and massaging his swollen abdomen. Magic prickled over his skin, spells sinking into him, and Scorpius _knew_ from the faint “hmm” of the healer that it was true.

“I’m pregnant,” he said, tone flat.

“About twelve weeks along,” Healer Adams confirmed. “You’ll be due the end of May, assuming all goes well. We’ll talk when the time gets closer about how, exactly, you’ll give birth.” Strong fingers poked around the edges of Scorpius’ pelvis, tracing the lines of it and checking the width. “There are various methods for male birth, some of which are better than others, depending on body type. Given how slender you are, unless your body adapts to the magic of the pregnancy, your own options may be limited.”

Adams stepped back, gesturing for Scorpius to sit up. “I’ll give you a script for some nutritional potions; be certain to take the dosage twice daily, to ensure this child has everything he needs to grow.”

“He?” There were so many more things that Scorpius needed to ask, but that one caught his ear first.

The healer tsked. “Don’t they teach you anything at Hogwarts these days? Male pregnancy can only result in male children; the ability to bear a female child falls solely to the mother. If you decide you want a daughter someday, you and your husband will need to find a surrogate.”

Scorpius swallowed roughly. “I’m not married, Healer. What if I don’t want the child?”

“There are avenues for adoption, and I can give you recommendations for someone to talk to,” the healer told him. “But ending the pregnancy is out of the question. Part of the magic of male pregnancy means that it is entwined within your body and removing it would be too much of a risk to your life.”

Something in Scorpius’ expression must have shown how he felt, that perhaps the risk wouldn’t be so bad after all. The healer frowned. “No, it is not an option. Pregnancy isn’t easy on the system; I’ll include something for your moods as well. You’ll find it helps.”

Scorpius didn’t know what to say. He’d come to the healer suspecting the truth, but finding out for certain changed everything. He was pregnant, he was alone, and he was, for all intents and purposes, penniless. He wasn’t sure how long he could manage to keep earning a living with blokes just thinking he was fat before someone caught on to the fact that he wasn’t Muggle and this wasn’t normal. He couldn’t be pregnant in Muggle London, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go, either.

Healer Adams sat in the chair across from Scorpius and looked at him, his expression kind. “Have you told the other father yet?”

Scorpius shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

“It often is.” The Healer patted his hand. “But it’s important that you tell him. Male pregnancy is magic, and it’s a very specific type of magic. It only happens where there is something between both participants, enough magic sparked to create a change in the receiving wizard, and to create life.”

Something between them. Scorpius sneered. “There’s nothing between us. It was one night, and it will never happen again. There was nothing _magical_ about it, except for this.” He gestured roughly at his belly. “Your books are wrong. All it takes is one stupid fuck where someone wasn’t paying attention. Nothing more.”

He stood and yanked on his jeans and t-shirt, buckling a belt loosely around his waist to make it look as if the shirt fell that way on purpose. He tossed the bag of galleons he carried at the healer. “That’s for your silence. I don’t want to hear a whisper of a rumor against the Malfoys about this.”

“I wouldn’t say a word anyway,” Adams told him, trying to give the bag back, but Scorpius shoved it towards him again.

“Everyone has a price,” he said darkly. “I just want to make sure I paid you first so you feel obligated to me. Don’t forget.”

Scorpius left then, refusing to look back. He made his way to the public post and paid three knuts to send a message by general owl.

 _James,_

 _Something’s come up and we need to talk. Meet me at the corner tonight._

 _—S._

Scorpius would tell him. He’d do what was right, and see what was happened.

And all the while, he tried to remember not to hope, not to pray that this would change things somehow. He didn’t dare daydream about James promising him that he would take care of everything, take care of Scorpius himself. He didn’t dare dream about it being all right. Scorpius had learned it was best not to dream at all.


	5. Chapter 5

_19 November (continued)_

“I’m not going to pay.”

James didn’t make the mistake of calling Scorpius by name this time. He didn’t call him anything at all, almost snarling the words out when he arrived at the corner.

“I’ve got enough problems right now without you making them all think I’m giving it away for free,” Scorpius hissed, taking James’ elbow as if nothing were wrong, a smile plastered onto his face. For the benefit of those watching, he laughed, the sound forced. “Oh, you say that now. But I know you will. You always do.”

“You don’t need to make it sound like I’m a repeat customer.” James jerked his arm free as soon as they were a block away. “And what the bloody hell were you owling me for? Aurora was right there when I got it. What if you’d said something?”

“Something that let her know you were cheating on her?” Scorpius snapped. “If you haven’t bothered to tell your girlfriend that you’re _queer_ , Potter, that’s your own problem. She’s going to find out someday, probably when she finds you buggering the busboy in the loo while you’re out for an anniversary dinner.”

James raised one hand and Scorpius stepped back, wand at his palm, hidden within his sleeve. They stared at each other on the street until James lowered his hand slowly. “What did you want to see me for?” The words were tight, snapping out.

If Scorpius had wondered what might happen, had hoped for anything _good_ , he didn’t anymore. He gestured at a nearby park, not bothering to hide the wand from James. “Over there. We can talk.”

“About?”

Scorpius pointed to a bench, and waited until James sat. 

“I’m pregnant,” he said, tone bland. “About twelve weeks gone. It’s yours.”

James exploded off the bench, reaching for him, but Scorpius stepped back quickly, wand out.

“Don’t touch me,” Scorpius said. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not on drugs. I’ve not gone mad. I’m _pregnant_ , James, and it’s your bloody child. Telling you is the right thing to do and there, it’s done. You can go now.”

“Bloody hell, this is impossible.” James took another step, hands up, and this time Scorpius let him come close. He let James open the denim jacket he wore, let him pull the shirt up.

Scorpius grit his teeth and stared up at the stars in the sky while James put his hands on his rounded belly and _felt_ the place where their child was growing. “Satisfied?” he snapped.

“No.” James shook his head. “This is impossible. You’ve been fucking some other wizard and decided to pin this on me so you can get your hands on the Potter fortune.”

“What?” Scorpius shoved James away. “This isn’t about money.” But it was, or it should be, since there was no way Scorpius could afford any of this. But to have James say that hurt, digging at Scorpius’ gut and making him lift his chin with fresh pride. “I have never had sex with another wizard,” he said plainly. “I was a virgin when I left Hogwarts. I lost my virginity at that same place where you shagged me, and I made good money off of it. _You_ are the only wizard I’ve ever had sex with, and you know Muggles can’t get pregnant, not like this.”

James crossed his arms. “You’re a bloody prostitute. You take precautions.”

“Of course I do.” Scorpius threw his arms wide. “That’s why I told you where the lube and condoms were.”

“The what?” James made a face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Condoms, Potter. _Condoms_.” At James’ continued confusion, Scorpius sneered. “They’re what folks without magic use. We’re out in the Muggle world here; I can’t just cast a spell before I fuck. Someone back at the Ministry would have my arse over showing ourselves to Muggles. You know that as well as I do.”

But he hadn’t thought of that, Scorpius knew. Neither of them had. Scorpius had been so accustomed to the routine, to the johns knowing what to do, that it hadn’t even occurred to him that James would have no idea about condoms. Bloody fucking hell.

“Get rid of it,” James ordered.

Even though Scorpius had been thinking the same thing earlier, he felt a jolt of anger at the idea. “No.”

“You’re not the only one involved here,” James growled. He stepped in close to Scorpius, glaring at him, jabbing one finger against his chest. “You don’t get to make this decision on your own.”

“I can’t.” Scorpius’ tone fell flat. “It’s too dangerous. If they take him out, it’ll kill me. It’s how the magic works. So I’m stuck with it. I’m having your son, Potter, and there’s nothing that can change that. The only say in it that you have is whether you want to know anything else about it. I don’t care. I’ve got a job, I’ll keep making money, and I’ll take care of this baby. He’s mine. We don’t need you.”

It was a dare, trying to tease a reaction out of James. Trying to make him care by threatening to take the baby away.

And it worked.

James glowered, jabbing a finger at Scorpius. “He’s _my son_ and you will give me reports _weekly_ on his health,” he snarled. “Miss one, and I will have someone come drag you out of whatever hellhole you’ve fallen into and shove you into a holding cell until you give birth.”

“You really want the Aurors knowing about the illegitimate child you’re having with the rent boy you paid for a night of queer passion?”

Scorpius bent as soon as James shoved him, hands falling to the small bump.

“Just do it!” James ordered. There was a crack and a flash, and he was gone, the air rushing into the space where he’d been.

Scorpius stared at the empty space, hands knotted into tight balls by his side, clenched and taut. He opened his mouth and a primal scream of frustration came out, echoed by the sharp snap of a spell striking a tree like lightning.

Blinking into the after effects of the flash, Scorpius tried to find thought, reason. He heard footsteps coming, and he wrapped his jacket around himself and hurried off, keeping his head down. He made his way back towards the corner automatically, not thinking about where his feet carried him.

When a dark car pulled up alongside and the window rolled down, he didn’t even look over. A deep voice called his street name—Sam—and he finally glanced up to see a bloke who came to him about weekly. He’d forgotten it was that night, forgotten everything but James and the baby. He forced a weak smile.

When the bloke asked him to get in the car to take care of him, Scorpius did what he had to do and said all right.

He had a job, after all. He could take care of this baby all on his own. He didn’t need James.


	6. Chapter 6

_17 December_

London had been buried under an avalanche of holiday decorations, and even Diagon Alley wasn’t immune. Scorpius sat at the small cafe across from the entrance (and exit) of the Ministry, sipping at a cup of tea while he watched people go by.

He didn’t fit in here anymore. It had been six months since he’d left the Wizarding world behind, and already he felt like he was more Muggle than Wizard. Not that he’d left magic behind entirely, but he’d settled in surprisingly well among the Muggles. He liked their clothes, in particular. Although robes had their uses. He could imagine a quick shag in an alley would be bloody well convenient if he wore his robes traditionally. And the way they snapped when one walked had a certain power to them.

But nothing was as comfortable as ragged well-worn jeans, even when he had to leave them gaping open to accommodate his swollen abdomen. Made him look like he had a paunch, if he looked in the mirror. He covered it up with a t-shirt, a heavy hoodie, and a denim jacket over that, the look bulky enough to hide his belly. But it meant he didn’t look a thing like these other people around him, bundled up in winter robes, hands tucked into muffs or buried in brightly coloured mittens. He was something else. Something _other_.

He didn’t belong.

The problem was, Scorpius wasn’t sure where he did belong anymore.

He heard James’ voice before he saw him, laughing loudly with his mates as they stepped out, still clad in their Auror uniform robes. James waved and went one way, while the others went in a different direction. Scorpius left a knut behind on the table as he hurried after James.

“Hullo.” He matched James’ pace and spoke quietly.

The other man threw him a dark look. “You look like a homeless bloke, stumbled in from Muggle London. Couldn’t you even try to clean up before coming in? And what the bloody hell are you doing here anyway?”

Scorpius held out an envelope. “Your report from the healer. I saw him yesterday. He wants to see me again in January, but I won’t be going.”

James stopped walking to take the envelope, slitting it open and spilling the contents into his hands. “What do you mean you won’t be going?” he asked, not entirely paying attention as he started to look through the papers.

“Exactly what I said.” Scorpius rolled his eyes. “I won’t be going to my January appointment. These things come dear, and frankly, I’d rather keep a roof over our heads than have someone poke and prod us to make certain we’re alright. I’ll be saving what I make until it’s time for the baby to be born.”

“You need medical care.” James glared at him, distracted for the moment from the report.

If Scorpius wanted, he could make himself think this was because James cared what happened to him. Or to the baby. But he suspected it was out of guilt, not any actual concern for him or the child. So Scorpius simply shrugged. “Fathers have been fine throughout history, even while still on the Quidditch pitch or fighting in wars. I’m resilient. And I need to be sure I can afford care when I’ll need it, or else the birth—that part could kill me.”

James was silent, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly. “I didn’t know that.”

Scorpius watched James flip through the papers, pausing when he found Scorpius’ favorite, a faint image cast by a spell onto the paper, showing a shadowy image of the baby. “That’s him.”

The rest of the papers were folded up and shoved into the interior pocket of James’ robes. He kept out the image, turning it slightly, moving to get better light for it under a street lamp. “I can barely see him.”

“I assure you, he’s there.” Scorpius touched one dark spot. “That’s his foot. He didn’t like the spell and I felt that kick when he threw a fit of temper.”

“He’s kicking?” James’ eyes were wide, gaze falling to Scorpius center. A frown drew his eyebrows together. “You’re dressed like a bloody muggle. Couldn’t you have put on some decent clothes?”

“My robes don’t fit,” Scorpius said idly, “and if I’d worn anything more form fitting than this, my pregnancy would be obvious. Considering I don’t want to talk to anyone, and I didn’t think you wanted to be seen talking to your pregnant prostitute—”

“You’re not _my_ prostitute,” James snapped.

“But this is _your_ baby!” Scorpius snarled in return. “If you want to know about it, then you’ll need to deal with me as I am. You didn’t seem to have any problem with it that night.”

“I never should have stopped that night,” James muttered. “Come on, we’re going to get you new robes.”

“I don’t want—” But Scorpius’ protest was cut off when James grabbed his arm and yanked, hard, so that he had to follow or fall down. For the sake of the child, he followed as James threaded through the streets of Wizarding London until he found a store called _Barely Bewitched_. Scorpius frowned at the mannequins of pregnant witches in the window, crossing his arms when one of the mannequins turned up her nose at him.

“I am not going in there.”

“Yes, you are.” James took him by the elbow and pulled, tugging him in through the door. Scorpius heard it click behind them, and a sing-song voice spoke sweetly.

“Welcome to _Barely Bewitched_ , your store for the best in gently used clothing. We promise to be circumspect and assure you that no one will ever know that your wardrobe had another witch before you.”

“I’m a wizard,” Scorpius pointed out dryly. “And this appears to be a store for used clothing for pregnant _witches_.”

“It’s also the only place I could think where we might be able to get something for you without rumours getting around.” James crossed his arms, back straight as he looked around at the clothes hanging on the racks. “And here we go.”

“This is our most popular line for young wizards.” The woman who walked out wasn’t anyone Scorpius recognized. A little older, he figured, closer to his parents’ age than his own. He just looked at her, and waited, but she didn’t bother to introduce herself, instead smiling slightly.

“You don’t need to worry,” she explained. “This shop has a privacy spell which was triggered when you entered. No one else will see you while you are here. As our introduction says, we promise perfect discretion for all our customers. Now, how far along are you?”

“Sixteen weeks.” Scorpius watched as James looked everywhere but at him, and tried to figure out why they were here. He didn’t spend time in the Wizarding world. He didn’t need robes.

“Then you’ll need something that can let itself out as you grow, but never look baggy.” She took one robe off the rack, holding it up to him, and frowning placed it back. “I have something that would be perfect for your eyes. They’re quite unusual.”

Scorpius lips’ pursed. “Discretion,” he reminded her. “It would be simplest if you forgot anything unique as soon as we leave.”

After all, it was hard to miss who they were. James looked like his father, and Scorpius was obviously a Malfoy. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, rocking back on his heels as she bustled off.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You’ll have to go the healer,” James said, not looking at him.

“I’ve already said I won’t. Not until the baby is born.”

James turned and stalked up to him, but Scorpius refused to back down. This wasn’t negotiable.

But he wasn’t expecting a hand to slip under his clothes, resting against the skin of his belly, or the arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him closer.

“Can I feel him kicking?” James’ voice was low and rough.

Scorpius shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve only just started to feel it myself.”

And he didn’t like this. Being held like this made it difficult to keep his distance. James was warm, and Scorpius’ head tilted slightly, leaning against his shoulder.

“You’ll be able to feel it in a few weeks,” Scorpius said. “Not that you’ll be around to notice.”

The hand stroking his skin stopped. Scorpius looked up at James just in time for him to step back, leaving Scorpius to stumble slightly.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” The sales lady was back, a knowing smile lighting her expression. Scorpius simply glared at her, hoping discretion was, indeed, the watchword and that this would not be in the papers in the morning. He also hoped that James well understood the fine art of bribery to _ensure_ that she was as discreet as promised. It would be just like a Potter not to realize that money spoke much needed words sometimes.

Scorpius accepted the robes she handed him, and shrugged out of his outerwear, standing there only in jeans before he slipped the robes over his head. He held out his arms obediently, tilting his head back for her to take measurements.

“Almost a perfect fit. And the colour brings out the warmth of your eyes.” She tapped his shoulder. “Take them off, and I’ll take care of the adjustments and send them by owl.”

“I’m living in Muggle London,” Scorpius said flatly, enjoying the shock that it gave her. “I do hope your discretion will extend to the delivery.”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy.” She nodded politely.

If he’d had any hope that he wasn’t recognized, that hope was gone now. Of course, she needed a name for the delivery as it was.

“Wait.” James counted out several galleons, then added two more and handed them to her. “For your troubles. Two sets of robes, charmed to resist wear, resist cold, and expand as needed. Have them to him by Tuesday.”

Her nod was deeper this time. “Of course, Mr. Potter. And may I say congratulations?”

Scorpius’ breath caught as James looked right at him. There was nothing there.  No warmth, no pleasure. It was as if someone had turned him off.

“It’s not mine,” James finally said, tone cool. “Scor’s a friend. I’m just helping out.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter.” Her words were bland. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He should say something now, Scorpius thought. Find some way to smooth this over. He shouldn’t simply stand here, feeling as if his heart had shattered all over again just because James denied him. He couldn’t expect anything else.

“Happy Christmas,” James said, and with a faint nod, he backed up until he reached the door, pulled it open, and left.

Scorpius swallowed hard, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sodding hormones. He wouldn’t… couldn’t… not here and not now.

But a light pat against his hand undid him, and as he inhaled, he gulped in the first sob, then let it out on an exhale.

“Cry,” she said softly. “They all do. No one will hold it against you, and you’re welcome to stay until you’ve cried it all out.”

Scorpius wasn’t sure he ever would, not as long as the pregnancy had a hold on his emotions. But he stayed until the tears dried and he could manage to face going home alone again.


	7. Chapter 7

_24 December_

His roommates were already gone. Scorpius didn’t know where they went, nor did he care. Home to families, perhaps, or spending the night with girlfriends. Or perhaps just out on the corner for Christmas Eve, picking up what last minute business they could.

It meant that Scorpius had the flat to himself, and he didn’t have to bury himself in bulky clothing to hide the true shape of his “paunch.”

And it meant that when the first owl knocked at his window, no one else was there to notice.

He let the small, dusky bird in, tossing it a treat from the small bag he still had left in his desk drawer before it went back out the window to fly home again. He didn’t need to open the card, or the package that was nearly as large as the bird itself, in order to know who it was from. He’d spent seven years seeing that owl regularly, and he knew this had to be from Albus.

Scorpius toyed with the string tied about the package, wondering if his public post had gotten to Albus yet, and what he’d made of the simple gift of a Muggle pocket watch. It had been a good pocket watch, Scorpius thought. Antique, but it cleaned up well with a bit of magic, and looked more expensive than it was. He’d spent the last of his money to get it engraved with a phrase about how a good mate was better than a brother. Not that he’d been much of a mate, lately, hiding from Albus and not breathing a word to him about how Scorpius was carrying his brother’s son.

He stared at the gift for a long time, trying to decide if guilt was a good reason not to open it. When the second owl arrived, he let it in and gave it a treat automatically. International post, the stickers bright on the package, covering over the bright wrapping. From his parents then. He’d rather open Al’s gift first.

Scorpius tugged the paper off the box, then opened it, watching as a letter fell to the floor. He pulled out a jumper, awkwardly knit in green with a silver scorpion over the heart. He gave it ten points for the thought, and took away another thirty for the fact that it was huge. As he slipped it on, imagining he could smell the Potter kitchen woven into it, he added back another ten points for the fact that it was a perfect bulky knit to hide the baby. He just couldn’t imagine when he’d wear it after the baby was born. And he couldn’t imagine that Al had picked anything this large on purpose.

There was a pocket at the front, and he felt something hard in it. Reaching in, he pulled out a silver watch, beautifully made and inscribed with the Slytherin crest. He slid it onto his wrist, then picked up the letter to read.

 _Happy Christmas, Scor!_

 _How’s Nice? You should’ve told me that’s where you were going, rather than letting me read it in the society pages. Well, Lily read it in the pages, not me. She said your mum’s having a great time in France, so I hope you’re doing well there, too. At least you’ve got the sense not to be photographed a hundred times._

 _The watch is from me. There were two of them made, exactly alike. The jeweler said they were supposed to be for twins, but I don’t have a twin, I have you. So there you go. This means you have to come see me when you’re back from France, you know. I miss you. And I have things to tell you. Mum thinks James is going to be getting married soon. He’s been dating Aurora for two years, and Mum hopes he proposes to her for the New Year. Dad says he ought to wait. I don’t know what James thinks; he’s got a flat in London now and he’s never around, since he’s all busy being an Auror._

 _Me, I’m staying at the Leaky Cauldron and I’ve sort of maybe been seeing Melisande. A little bit. Professor Longbottom glares at me more now than he ever did when I arsed up potting plants in his class._

 _Oh, the jumper’s from my mum, of course. She said she had a feeling you needed to be warm this holiday season, so wear it in good health. I think she made it big enough to fit two of you. Or else she thinks all that rich French food has gotten you horribly fat._

 _Come home soon, Scor, and come by the Leaky when you do._

 _Yours,_

 _Al_

Bloody sodding hormones. Scorpius rubbed at his eyes with one sleeve, waiting until the mist of unshed tears had cleared before he attempted the next package.

 _Darling Scorpius,_

 _We hope you are doing well. When we return in February, we shall be taking possession of a smaller residence in London, something more suited to our current finances. Your father has found a position within the Ministry working with Foreign Affairs, and will be posted in France for the foreseeable future. I will be moving between London and France. In time, we should be able to hold our heads up as befits a Malfoy._

 _We have not heard from you in some time. Have you secured a post in London? We do hope you will be able to visit with us in Nice for the New Year. A port key has been enclosed._

 _With love,_

 _Your mother_

Scorpius touched the tarnished silver button that had fallen from the box and clasped it tightly in his hand. He wanted to go. He wanted more than anything to see his parents, and be once again the spoiled child he had grown up as. But he knew that they would be horrified by his condition, and even more horrified to learn how it had come about. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let them see that he had ruined the Malfoy name, not until he had found his own way to put it back together. 

He got up and dropped the button into the drawer that held the owl treats, then sank back onto the bed with the book his parents had sent him. Happy Christmas, he supposed, as he curled up with one hand on the jumper over his belly. He felt the small flutters and kicks more strongly now, and that gave him some anchor as he read.

The third owl arrived just before midnight, knocking imperiously upon the window until Scorpius leveraged himself off the bed so he could open it. It didn’t wait for a treat, simply leaving a letter with the Gringotts seal upon it for Scorpius before flying off.

Gringotts. Official mail from the bank. Scorpius wasn’t sure what to think, slitting it open carefully with the letter opener.

 _Dear Mr. Scorpius Malfoy,_

 _An account has been opened with Gringotts in your name, containing funds to be used solely for the health and well-being of the child “Unnamed Malfoy in utero.” You may draw against this account for various sundries required throughout the process of pregnancy, childbirth, and subsequent child rearing. This account has already been supplied to Healer Adams, at the instruction of James Potter, and all payments to the Healer shall be made directly from Gringotts._

The letter fell from Scorpius’ fingertips as he sat down heavily on the bed.

James was going to pay for the baby to be born.

Scorpius could go back to the healer. He could make sure the baby was alright, and he could give James the reports.

He could possibly see James while giving him those reports.

Scorpius pushed that thought away quickly. This wasn’t a reason to hope. It was a business transaction. After all, this was James’ son, so of course he had an interest in it. That’s all it meant.

But right now that was enough.

The fourth owl dropped off a card, thanking Scorpius for making an appointment he had never made. He was to see Healer Adams again on the third of January.

With a sigh, Scorpius leaned back against the wall, summoning the bowl of popcorn that he’d left in the kitchen. No one was home, so he could use magic. This new jumper was decidedly warm and comfortable, for all that it was huge. He had plenty of time to figure out how he would confess this mess to his parents, who sounded as though they were solvent again. And James was going to pay for the baby.

Scorpius smiled as he tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth. Perhaps this was a happy Christmas after all.


	8. Chapter 8

_3 January_

“Sorry I’m late. I had trouble getting away early from work.”

At the sound of the voice from the hallway, Scorpius slid off the examination table, bare feet finding the floor. He groaned, pressing a hand to his lower back, then started looking for where someone had set his clothes after he’d taken them off. He’d need at least a shirt if he were going to leave, and then he remembered that he’d come in his robes. All he needed to do was throw on the robes—

“Right in here, Mr. Potter.” A sharp intake of breath that Scorpius heard, rather than saw, buried under the robes as he was. “Mr. Malfoy! You can’t leave now.”

Scorpius yanked on the robes, pulling them down and automatically smoothing them over his belly as he glared at the healer and James. “Yes, I can. He’s not supposed to be here for this.”

“He is the father—”

“I paid for it,” James interrupted Healer Adams, pushing past him and into the room, effectively blocking Scorpius’ escape. “He’s my son. So I’m here.”

Scorpius crossed his arms, chin pointed in the air. “I don’t want you here, and as I’m the one who’s pregnant, I do believe I get final say. You shouldn’t upset me while I’m in this delicate condition.”

James snorted. “You have never been delicate.” His hands dropped to Scorpius’ abdomen, fingers spread to cover the most area.

Scorpius felt the kick as his son rolled over, and saw the surprise in James’ expression as well.

“That was him,” James said softly.

“No, it was indigestion.” Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was him. If you poke at him, he’ll move. If you simply wait five or ten minutes, he’ll move. Apparently my body is a giant swimming pool, and our son enjoys doing laps.”

 _Our son_. Scorpius swallowed hard, because it was the first time he’d thought about the baby he carried in exactly those words. Not as his own son, or as James’ son, but as something they shared. It made it sound… intimate.

James brought one hand up, lightly touching Scorpius’ cheek. For a moment he looked as if he would say something, then he stepped back, turning to look at the healer. “It looks like you’re already done. Did I miss everything?”

“We haven’t even started yet.” Healer Adams gave Scorpius a dark look. “Mr. Malfoy, if you would remove your robes once more and take your place on the examination table, we can begin.”

Scorpius thought about resisting. He didn’t want to undress with James there, to be so exposed in this harsh light. James had seen him naked before, but this was different. This was pre-meditated, not a fumbling quick fuck for money. _Intimate_. He couldn’t let go of that word, and tried not to feel the gaze resting on him as he disrobed. He folded them neatly and dropped them over the chair. His boxers rolled beneath his belly, leaving the swelling skin naked as Scorpius hitched himself up onto the table backwards.

He saw how James watched him, saw the hungry gaze track the path of his stomach. “Give it time,” he said dryly, “and you’ll have one of these at home to play with all the time. I’m sure Aurora wants kids once you’re married.”

It was an opening, to find out if Albus had been right and James proposed over the holiday. But James didn’t take it, choosing instead to move to stand by Scorpius, clasping his hand and threading their fingers together as the healer readied his wand.

“I didn’t think I wanted kids yet,” James murmured. “Now I’m thinking maybe I do.”

“He’s mine,” Scorpius glared at him.

James didn’t return the look, just squeezed his hand. “Yeah. I know.”

Scorpius wasn’t going to let this child go. No matter how much James paid for, he couldn’t _steal_ him away. While Scorpius had grown up with affection, and two doting parents who spoiled him rotten, they hadn’t been like other parents. Their affection had been kisses on the cheek, gentle pats on the head, and the purchase of anything he might want. And the longer the pregnancy went on, the more Scorpius realized that he loved the idea of someone who simply loved him. Unconditionally, like this child would. He’d be Papa for this boy, and no one else could come between them.

Not even James.

“Just relax, Mr. Malfoy, and we’ll be done with the examination in two ticks. Then you can hear the heartbeat if you’d like?” Healer Adams made it sound like a question, but Scorpius suspected he already knew that he would agree. He was hungry to hear that sound, that affirmation of life.

So he waited while the healer waved his wand and made notes and informed them that their son ( _their_ son… _intimate_ again) was growing right on schedule, and the due date hadn’t changed. Then a flick, and the rushing whoosh-whoosh-whoosh underlined by the slower thub-bump of Scorpius’ own heart filled the room. Scorpius closed his eyes, his free hand resting on his stomach, feeling the movement within.

“It’s so fast,” James whispered. “Is he all right? Is something wrong?”

“It’s always like that,” Scorpius said without opening his eyes. He squeezed James’ hand. “That’s just the way babies are.” He hesitated, then added more sharply, “I’m not on drugs, if you were worried that’s what it was.”

Silence, stretching on long enough that Scorpius gave James a look. But James’ eyes were closed, pressed tight, his breathing ragged as tears slipped out of the corners.

The healer adjusted the spell slightly. “You’ll have about five minutes before the spell fades,” he told them. “Dress and go on out to set your next appointment when you’re done, Mr. Malfoy.” He slipped out the door and closed it, leaving them alone.

“I didn’t know it would sound like that,” James said quietly.

“It’s real,” Scorpius told him. “When I first heard the heartbeat, that’s when I realized that it was real.” He remembered that rush, could see it echoed in James’ expression now. Terror and elation all at once.

“Our magic, together, was strong enough to create life.” James stared at Scorpius, his thumb stroking lightly against Scorpius’ hand. “Did you know that one in a thousand wizards is able to get pregnant easily while trying? Most require help, carefully watching schedules, rituals to build magic between the two wizards. And we went and did it by accident.”

Scorpius didn’t know any of that. Magical biology was never his strong suit, and right now, he didn’t care. He felt every small stroke of James’ thumb straight to his groin, and he knew that soon his boxers weren’t going to be able to hide his reaction. He let out a soft shuddering breath as he tugged his hand free. Never let them see that you care. Never believe that they think you are important.

As he pushed off the table, he turned his back to James while he shrugged into his robes, and schooled his voice carefully nonchalant. “I blame you, Potter. It’s in your blood, after all, to break all the rules. As unique as your father I suppose.”

“It wasn’t me,” James said quietly. “It was us.”

Silence again while Scorpius fixed his robes back in place, checking to make sure that the concealment charm was in effect and he didn’t look like a waddling cow. The worst of it was knowing that he wasn’t quite halfway there, and would be far larger still by the time the child was born. Thank Merlin for the concealing charm on the robes. And thank James for the robes. Scorpius grumbled inwardly, knowing that he would be beholden to James for a long time yet.

Everything in place, he looked over to find James staring at him, hands stuffed into his pockets, back perfectly straight as he stood there. Scorpius’ skin warmed under that regard, and he felt it down to his groin once more, filling him with warmth and blood. He was tempted, so very tempted, to drop to his knees right there and nuzzle James’ trousers and see if he could win him back.

But Scorpius was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn’t _beg_. They had pride. So he crossed his arms and tilted his chin. “Well?”

“We’re going to get something to eat,” James said, motioning towards the door. “I’ll take you home once I’m sure you’ve been properly fed.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll pay you for the night. I don’t want you back on the street corner.”

“I’ll still need to earn a living tomorrow,” Scorpius reminded him. “And I’m not going to be kept. You don’t have enough money to set me up as your permanent mistress.”

James caught him before he opened the door, cupping his face in his hands. He moved in slowly, soft breath warm against Scorpius lips, just barely warning him before James’ mouth covered his. Scorpius groaned into the kiss, heat suffusing his body, knees going weak as he swayed closer, relaxing as James’ arm at his waist supported him. His lips parted, and James took advantage of it, tongue sweeping in to tease him, to coax Scorpius to do the same to him and explore. When it ended, Scorpius whimpered, and James exhaled roughly, leaning his forehead against Scorpius’ head.

Never kiss the john. Kisses were _intimate_. Kisses were saved for lovers, for love, for affection, for things that never happened when money was exchanged.

Kisses were brilliant, warm and toasty, lighting Scorpius up with fire from within in ways that sex never did. Kisses made his blood hot, made his prick hard and hungry and waiting, wishing for more than a touch from the robes as they swayed when he moved. Kisses made him want, and wanting for himself was never good. Scorpius couldn’t _want_ , because he couldn’t _have_ things. 

But Merlin help him, he wanted James again. Over and over, he wanted this.

Scorpius closed his eyes tightly, pressing them against the moisture, trying not to feel the gentle sweep of a thumb against his lips.

“We’re going to get something to eat,” James repeated. “Anything you want, Scor. Then I’ll see you home safely, and you won’t go to the street corner tonight.”

Scorpius shuddered, helpless against this. “I won’t go out tonight,” he agreed hoarsely. “I promise.” He felt as money was tucked into his pocket, James paying as promised, and that made tears try to come again. His chest ached from holding them back. Wanting hurt, and that fucking sucked. “And you’re taking me someplace expensive. Where I can have anything I want, from crepes to roast, and even all of it at once.”

“Hungry?” James chuckled.

Eyes opened and misty, Scorpius risked a look at him. James was smiling as he offered his arm to Scorpius, that smile lighting his eyes when Scorpius took it. And again, Scorpius _wanted_ him. Was he hungry? Oh yes. “All the time,” he responded quietly. 

The true depths of his hunger weren’t going to be sated by dinner, but at least his belly would be full. So he went quietly with James, while repeating the rules of the street in his mind, knowing he was already breaking them, one by one.


	9. Chapter 9

_4 January_

Scorpius woke to the sound of a rough tapping on his window. He pushed himself out of bed and stumbled to open it, the owl zipping in as soon as the sash slid high enough. It gave an impatient and irritated sounding hoot, dropping a newspaper and a red envelope on the bed, then flew back out again. Scorpius let go of the window and it banged shut, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet of the morning.

The paper. He didn’t subscribe to any papers. And certainly not wizarding ones delivered by owl to his very muggle flat, where his very muggle roommates could see.

And the envelope.

A _red_ envelope.

Oh fuck.

He tried to catch it before it opened, tried to stop what he knew was coming even if he wasn’t sure how or from who or why he even deserved it. His mother would never yell, not even if she learned what he’d been doing, and his father wouldn’t do anything so public. It had to be a Potter or a Weasley, or even more likely the Weasel that became a Potter. That was it, James’ mother had found out…

 _Scorpius Malfoy!_

He put his hands over his ears, wincing, as the Howler began, and he prayed that his roommates were gone already. A quick glance at the clock told him it had only gone half eight in the morning, and neither of them ever stirred before noon. Fuck.

 _How dare you shag my fiancé! How could you do that to me? And leaving me to find out about it from the Prophet!_

Oh. This wasn’t Ginny Potter. This was Aurora. And apparently James had proposed, just as Albus had predicted. Scorpius felt a small knot settle into his gut, tightening swiftly. The baby kicked against it, and Scorpius curled over, as if each word were a blow.

 _I will make sure everyone you know sees this! I will tell the world that you are a fiancé-fucking pregnant son of a Death Eater who doesn’t know how to keep his fucking prick in his pants!_

Scorpius never knew Aurora had a mouth like that on her. She’d always seemed down to earth, proper, and a bit boring. Not someone who would curse like a sailor, each word weighing him down until he knelt on the floor, curled protectively over his belly as if she could somehow do harm to his child through those words.

 _You will never be able to show your face in Wizarding London again, when I’m done with you, you fucking little prick. I’ll destroy you. I’ll ruin you even more than your father ruined the Malfoy name. Cock-sucker, Imperiusing my fiancé to make him think he’s fucking queer. You’re a bloody fucking ass, that’s what you are, Scorpius Malfoy, and I will make sure you never want to be seen again!_

There was a pounding on his door, but Scorpius was helpless to answer it, bent under the onslaught. He only had time to realize that he wasn’t dressed, wasn’t camouflaged before the door burst open and his roommates stood there. They stared, open-mouthed, at the red letter hanging in mid-air, spewing obscenities. And as it stopped, and Scorpius struggled to his feet, they stared at him.

Clad only in pyjama bottoms slung low below his burgeoning belly, his pregnancy was obvious. He heard the intake of breath, then the soft whisper of the letter falling to the floor in the silence that fell after the shouting.

“Fuck,” one of them whispered. “You’re fucking pregnant. What are you, some kind of a fucking freak?”

“Might be one of those blokes who used to be a bird.” The other stared at Scorpius, half-fearful, half waiting. “Is that it, Sam? And who the fuck is Scorpius? What was that thing?”

“Just a trick,” Scorpius said, pressing one hand to the small of his back as he bent to get the Howler from the floor, holding it carefully so it didn’t go off again. But just that small touch of his fingers was enough, as it wailed _Scorpius Malfoy!_ in a tone that seemed even louder and more shrill than before.

Both his roommates backed up. “This is fucking bizarre, mate,” one of them whispered.

They didn’t look amazed, the way Scorpius always thought Muggles would be when they saw magic. They weren’t awed, or cowed. They weren’t hungry for the power. No, the way their gazes shifted from the screaming letter to his own form showed only fear of the unknown. Fear and anger rapidly rising into their expressions. He wanted to step back, to curl around his child again and protect them both from what he could tell was coming.

“Get out,” they told him sharply. “Get out and take your fucking freak show with you. Whatever the fuck you’re into, we want it gone.”

Scorpius raised his chin, hands clenched tight at his sides, and took a step forward. But his roommate stepped faster, coming into his face and leaning forward, jaw set and hands raised to push Scorpius back. “Don’t even think about arguing,” he growled. “You’ve got until night to get out. If you’re here when we get back tonight, we will beat you within an inch of that freaky life of yours.”

“And don’t show your face on our corner again. No one wants to fuck a freak.”

The door slammed as they left, and Scorpius sank onto the bed. He could deny what they said; he had proof that plenty of folks liked to fuck the freak. But he knew that would be ending soon, as they stopped thinking he was pudgy and started realizing that was a child in there, somehow. He didn’t know what his roommates meant, about blokes who used to be birds, but he had a guess, and it made sense out of some things his johns had said.

But he wasn’t a bird. And he couldn’t keep subjecting his baby to that, or risk that someone else might get angry and hurt him.

Aurora’s curses faded a second time, and Scorpius ignored the letter when it dropped to the floor. Instead he picked up the paper and spread it out, getting his first taste of news from the Wizarding world in months.

The front page showed Ron Weasley getting some award or other for bringing in a rogue Death Eater. In the picture, Head Auror Potter pinned a medal to Weasley’s robes, over and over while Weasley smiled and waved at the crowd. Scorpius studied Potter, wondering if that was what James would look like in twenty years. Or if that’s what their son might be like. The green eyes were just like James, and that messy hair. But his father seemed stockier than James was, of a slightly thicker, shorter build. James had a lanky height that was arms and legs and perfect coordination. And a Keeper’s hands, big and strong and quick to catch anything that came their way. Funny how he remembered that now, playing Quidditch against Gryffindor, and all the trash talk before the matches, when Albus promised James that he’d take Slytherin to the win with the Snitch, while James laughed and said Slytherin better get the Snitch because they’d never get a goal.

They were innocent then, Scorpius thought. Children. They weren’t children any more.

He had to flip through the pages to find the article, but there they were on the Society and Gossip page, right at the top. The first picture caught the two of them leaving the Healer’s office, Scorpius’ hand on James’ arm, the second showed them at the restaurant, leaning in to talk, James’ hand covering Scorpius’ on the table. He remembered that moment; it was just before James kissed him again. 

Scorpius had spent the evening trying to build up his walls, only to have James knock them down repeatedly with a casual gesture or movement. He didn’t know if James had any idea what he was doing to Scorpius, or how painful it was. He wanted to be angry with him now, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Scorpius just felt drained.

The third picture was somehow outside of Scorpius’ Muggle building, where his robes had been abandoned and he was back in Muggle clothes, the jumper clinging to his belly and making the swell obvious as James kissed him goodnight. Scorpius touched the edge of the picture, watching it and reliving that moment. Soft and sweet. Careful. Almost as if James were claiming him but at the same time, saying goodbye. He’d felt treasured for a moment, and taken care of.

Then James had ruined it by touching the place where Scorpius had secreted the money and reminding him not to go out that night. Scorpius had snarled at him and pushed him away roughly before stalking inside, but of course, the paper didn’t show that. The paper only showed what appeared to be two lovers and a secret pregnancy. Scorpius supposed they were half right.

By now, he figured, James had made it up to Aurora. Maybe he would take her away for the weekend, or buy her a gift. Spoil her unmercifully in bed. Not that she’d ever apologize to Scorpius. His gaze dropped to the red letter on the floor. If she hadn’t sent that Howler, he might have managed to keep things quiet just a bit longer. Until he could figure out someplace to go for after the baby was born. He never would have been able to bring it back here anyway.

The headline over the photographs read “Potter Son and Heir Caught in Lover’s Embrace”. Scorpius snorted, almost indignant that he hadn’t rated a mention in the headline. But the article didn’t spare any details, stating exactly who he was and his familial shame, while also chronicling Aurora’s tears when she heard of James’ infidelity.

Right then. Scorpius laid the paper aside and leaned heavily, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He didn’t know how long he sat there, just staring at the floor, but he had to find the energy to pack and to get out of here. For the sake of his child, at least.

He didn’t have many things, throwing what he did have into one duffle bag that he slung over his shoulder. He couldn’t see a point now in hiding; if they were going to arrest him for using magic in a Muggle space, they were already on their way, after the Howler had been seen by his roommates. So after he had dressed quickly, in Muggle clothes, he gave a flick of his wand and a twist in space and apparated to just outside the Leaky Cauldron.

He had sat there for longer than he thought, he realized, and he was going to have to deal with patrons as evening fell. There was nothing for it; he would hold his head high as befit a Malfoy. He ignored the stares as he walked through. He heard his name called, and would have ignored it if there weren’t a hand on his elbow, stopping him before he could pass through to Diagon Alley. He turned slowly, jaw set, chin high.

Albus’ hug caught him off-guard, sending his senses reeling. It threatened to undo him, and he pushed roughly at his best mate. “Get off,” Scorpius snarled. “I’m in the middle of something.”

But Albus didn’t let go, holding onto Scorpius’ shoulders as he leaned back to arm’s length to look at him. “It’s true then, you’re pregnant.” He shook Scorpius lightly. “You ought to’ve told me.”

Scorpius searched Albus’ face for some hint of what he was feeling, but all he saw was worry and an open-faced joy at the same time. Scorpius ground his teeth together, determined not to let hormones get the best of him, even if he could feel the prick of tears beginning. “Couldn’t,” he snapped. “And it’s not the time now.”

Again, Albus didn’t move, even when Scorpius twisted, trying to get free. “That’s my nephew in there, isn’t it?” Al asked. “You and James, that’s true?”

People were watching them. Not many, but still, the dinner and drinks crowd was starting to filter in. Scorpius saw Melisande sitting off to one side, at the table where Albus had been. Mrs. Longbottom was behind the bar, her husband next to her, both of them watching the confrontation. Scorpius recognized others around them, and wondered just how quickly the news would travel as he nodded once, quickly. “It’s James’ baby, yes, but there is nothing between us.”

“I’m not so sure.” Al pulled him in for one more hug. “Just go see him.”

Scorpius fixed him with the Malfoy glare, saying coldly, “That is exactly what I was on my way to do when you grabbed me.”

Albus grinned, not fazed at all by the expression. “Right then, go on. You know where to find me when all is said and done. We’ll catch up properly then, Scor.”

Friendship offered unconditionally. How could Scorpius have forgotten what that was like? He stepped back before he could lose his resolve and just stay here where it might be safe, with people who didn’t hate him. With people whose lives hadn’t been destroyed by his interference. He took a deep breath, and turned, heading into Diagon Alley, on his way to find the flat of one James Sirius Potter.

After all, he wasn’t sure where else he could go.


	10. Chapter 10

_4 January (continued)_

Scorpius heard the whispers and felt the stares as he stalked through the streets of Wizarding London. He didn’t stop to return those looks, simply holding his head high, pointed chin tilted slightly upwards, as proud as if he had robes snapping about his ankles. He might not be dressed as a Wizard at the moment, and he might well be leading with his belly, but he was a bloody Malfoy and he would act the part.

The resolve lasted until he reached the row of homes where he knew James lived. He stopped in front of a red door and hesitated a moment before he rapped sharply. He felt eyes on him, and wondered if the whole street had read the paper that morning, and now peeked out through their curtains to see what happened next.

James opened the door and stood there, leaning against it, watching Scorpius. Dark hair was tousled, and he was wearing trackies and a t-shirt, as if he’d never quite managed to get dressed that day. Scorpius shrugged the shoulder with the duffle bag, and James glanced at it, then back to Scorpius.

“I heard from Aurora today,” Scorpius said, is if he weren’t still standing on the stoop, completely uncertain about his reception. “I’m sorry I came between you.”

“You think showing up on my doorstep is going to help?” James pushed at his fringe, making it stand up even worse before he pulled the door open a bit more. “Get in here. We don’t need everyone watching.”

Scorpius stepped inside, letting out a soft rush of breath as the door closed behind him. “No, we don’t,” he agreed. “And they most certainly were. I believe the Prophet has managed to make me something of a celebrity.”

James gave him an odd look. “That’s one word for it. What are you doing here, Scor?”

Scorpius let the bag fall from his shoulder, landing on the floor with a soft thump. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, careful not to push too hard or they’d slide down, the fly open as it was to accommodate the baby. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. My roommates kicked me out.”

It was half a lie now, but it hadn’t been when he’d set out to come here. He was sure that if he turned around and went back to the Leaky, Albus would let him kip in his room, and not even complain that he was interrupting time with Melisande. But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to nudge and push and see what would happen if he came to James now.

But as James just stood there, Scorpius became less certain that this was a good idea. He crossed his arms, chin lifted again, voice cool as he said, “I saw Albus on my way here.”

“Yeah, I ignored his owls today.” James turned and walked further into the house, to the kitchen at the back. Scorpius followed, and leaned against the doorway to watch James putter around. He was domestic here in the house, taking out glasses, getting water and biscuits. Scorpius’ stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything yet that day, and that he didn’t have much money to go find food, either.

“He asked about the baby.” Scorpius looked at James, as James refused to look at him. “I told him the truth.”

“Sure, why not. Since the paper already made that assumption.”

Scorpius clenched his jaw tight, the small muscle at the back knotted. “I’m not going to apologize for that, James. You wanted me to go to the healer, and you decided to attend as well. Dinner was your choice. Taking me home was your choice. And when my best mate asked me what was happening, I decided to tell him the truth. He deserved that, at least, since we’ve both been lying to him for months. Maybe longer, since you’ve never bothered to tell him you’re queer.”

“I’m not queer.”

It was the way he said it that made Scorpius look over. It wasn’t yelled. It wasn’t angry. It was just flat. Resigned. Frustrated. James leaned against the counter, his head in his hands, fingers threaded through his hair. Scorpius let one uncertain hand fall lightly against his shoulder, smoothing across his back. Muscles flinched under his touch, and he almost pulled away, but James muttered, “It’s okay. You don’t have to stop.”

“So you’re not queer,” Scorpius said quietly. He watched the path of his hand over the t-shirt, stroking small circles between James’ shoulder blades. He didn’t want to look at his face, not sure what he’d see there.

“Not entirely. I had sex with you Scor, I know that. Fucking brilliant shag, too,” James admitted, still talking to the countertop. “But I’ve shagged Aurora, and that was brilliant, too.”

“Is she pregnant?”

James snorted. “No, she’s not. We took precautions. I didn’t plan on having children for years. Maybe when I’m thirty.”

“Yeah. You said.”

James straightened up, one hand falling to lightly rest against Scorpius’ abdomen. “I also said maybe I was ready after all. I don’t want to be shut out of his life.”

“Aurora won’t like that.”

James stilled and pulled away. “Go put your things in the living room. The couch pulls out, and you can kip there for a couple of nights, until you figure out what you’re going to do.”

Aurora wouldn’t like that, either, but Scorpius wasn’t going to argue. He didn’t want to go back to the Leaky and face a hundred questions from Albus, not now. So he went back to the hall and grabbed his duffle, then took it into the living room. James met him there a few minutes later, carrying a pile of linens, and for a bit, they worked together in silence to make the couch into something vaguely resembling a bed. It occurred to Scorpius halfway through that he wasn’t in the Muggle world anymore, and he could transfigure it, but he didn’t mention it. After all, since James hadn’t mentioned it either, there might be a reason why they hadn’t done it.

“The bathroom’s that way,” James pointed to a door along the hallway after they finished up. “And you’ve seen the kitchen. My bedroom’s the other door. And don’t be surprised when you hear footsteps; the bloke who lives upstairs walks like a bloody elephant, usually around half two in the morning. Don’t know why.”

Scorpius caught his arm, waiting until James looked at him. “Thank you.” His hand strayed, across James’ chest, feeling how still he was. He took that as encouragement, stepping closer, one hand sliding down to carefully slip under the waistband of his trackies, skimming over the fabric of his pants. He could feel the ridge of James slowly getting hard, and with a soft groan, Scorpius sank to his knees.

He tugged the trackies down, just enough to skim his fingers over, showing his intent. He felt the shudder go through James, and he took it as encouragement, reaching in to free him, so Scorpius could tease the tip with his tongue. He was good at this. He could say thank you for giving him a place to stay. Show his appreciation.

Scorpius wasn’t expecting the hard shove that pushed him off-balance. He fell back, landing on his bum and sat there, staring up at James while he hastily shoved his prick back into his trackies. “I didn’t buy you for the night, Scorpius,” James ground out. “I gave you a place to sleep. So maybe you should do that.”

“Right, of course you don’t want a bloke’s mouth on your prick,” Scorpius sneered. “Because you’re not queer.” He pushed to his feet and turned his back, searching through his duffle for pyjama bottoms.

“This has nothing to do with whether I’m queer or not!” James yelled. “I’m _engaged_. I’m going to be married in just a few months, as soon as the ceremony’s set. I can’t be fucking around with you.”

“But you want my _baby_!” Scorpius snarled back. “It doesn’t work like that. So I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

It was a stupid idea to come here, and he’d been stupid to think anything might happen because of it. It was obvious James wanted the baby but not him, and Scorpius wasn’t going to let that happen. So he’d find some other place to live and some way to survive. He was a Malfoy. His father had survived a bloody war, so the least Scorpius could do was to survive this.

“Fine,” James said quietly.

Scorpius didn’t look up, merely echoed, “Fine.”

He heard James’ footsteps in the hallway, heard the door close at the end. Scorpius bit his lip so hard he fought back tears. There was nothing left to do but sleep, even though it still seemed to early for it, and leave in the morning. He wasn’t wanted here.


	11. Chapter 11

_5 January_

Scorpius guessed that it must be half two in the morning, as he lay awake, listening to footsteps pace back and forth overhead. They'd woken him up a few minutes ago, and it took him quite a while to remember that he could use a silencing charm to shut them out once more. He did so, and as silence fell, he rolled over, pulling the blankets up to his chin, and almost over his head.

But he couldn't sleep.

He got up and stumbled to the bathroom. He needed to pee. Again. He always needed to pee these days, and the healer had said it was only going to get worse. Scorpius could barely imagine how he'd ever leave the toilet in the later stages, given how often he was in there already.

He took the time to wash his face after all was said and done, liking the feel of the cold water against his too tight skin. But he couldn't stay in there forever, and as he stepped out, he hesitated. He could go back to the living room and try again to sleep. Or he could go down the hall to James' room.

He shouldn't.

He really, truly, shouldn't.

There was a soft sound, something like a gasp, and Scorpius felt it down to his toes. He turned without thinking and stopped only when he reached the closed door. One hand pressed against it, fingers spread, as if he could touch James through the wood. Another soft gasp, and a whisper of a name.

Scorpius' name.

Breath caught in his throat and he pushed the door open.

James was asleep, his pillow grasped in his arms, cradled close. He murmured Scorpius' name again, and the door slipped from Scorpius' fingers, to bang shut. James sat up, eyes wild, reaching for a wand that wasn't there, and Scorpius jumped backwards, the door blocking him from leaving.

Time to make a decision: stay or go.

Scorpius stepped forward quickly, slipping under the covers behind James before he had a chance to second guess himself. He wrapped his arm around the other man, face pressed against his shoulder. "I didn't mean to wake you," he murmured. "Go back to sleep."

The bed moved as James rolled over, nudging Scorpius until he had him spooned, an erection pressing against Scorpius' arse. "You shouldn't be here," James whispered.

"Then let me go."

Silence, then hoarse words. "I can't. I don't want to."

Don't let yourself hope. Don't believe the john cares for you.

But there hadn't been any money tonight. This was just Scorpius and James. Scorpius laid his hand over the one against his chest and slowly moved it down until it just touched the swell of his stomach. Scorpius, James, and the life they'd created, together.

"What about Aurora?" he asked quietly.

James sucked in a deep shuddering breath, letting it out as his hand smoothed over Scorpius' belly. He stilled when the baby moved, and Scorpius shifted to accommodate. "She broke it off with me yesterday. Right after she sent you that howler." A moment's hesitation, then so quietly Scorpius almost didn't hear him, James whispered, "I was going to make it up to her. See if she'd take me back."

Why? Or why not now? Scorpius didn't want to breathe, didn't want to interrupt this, but he wanted _more_. Instead of asking, he just squeezed James' hand, hoping he'd continue.

"But that wouldn't be fair," James murmured, breath warm against Scorpius' shoulder and neck, words interspersed with kisses. "She knew. She said that before she saw the article, she knew. That I've been dreaming about you. That I wouldn't stop talking about you. I love her, Scor. I could've been happy with her, settled down, had kids and gone on with my life. Might've gone out once in a while and shagged some random bloke from a street corner. I'm not queer, but... I couldn't stop thinking about it. I like sex with girls. But I needed sex with a bloke, too."

What now, then? Tears squeezed from the corners of Scorpius' eyes and he was holding onto James' hand so hard that it had to hurt. But he was still afraid to interrupt, or afraid that he might wake up, nearly folded in half on the sofa, still dreaming.

Teeth scraped lightly just behind Scorpius' ear, and he moaned, that one sound slipping free. In response, James tugged his hand free, let it slip down over Scorpius' hip, holding him as he pressed against him from behind. Two thin layers were all that separated the brush of his reaction and Scorpius' arse. "Turn around," James said roughly.

Breath shuddering in his chest, Scorpius did, lying on his side to face James, trying to keep his expression composed. He licked his lips, watching James' eyes, and going with the tug when James pulled him close, fitting them together as well as he could with the baby between them.

James looped a leg over Scorpius' to link them, then let his hand cup his face. "The thing is," James murmured. "I love Aurora but nowhere near as much as I've fallen in love with you. The funny part is, she says it happened before. That I fancied you before I ever found you on that street corner. That I used to talk about Al's best mate all the bloody time. I don't remember doing that, Scor. But when you showed up on my doorstep, I knew it was over. And I tried. I just wanted to be the normal guy. My father's son. The proper Auror, with a wife and two kids and maybe a kneazle or a puffskein some day."

A smile started to twitch at the corner's of Scorpius' mouth. "You could have a husband and two kids," he pointed out.

Both eyebrows went up. "You'd do this again?"

"I have a feeling that if we don't take precautions, I wouldn't have a choice," Scorpius said dryly. Then his expression eased as he dared to believe that this was real. "But yes. I'd do this again. As long as you're with me through it from beginning to end."

"I'm not letting you go now. But you have to promise me something." James sat up, straddling Scorpius as he leaned down to frame his face with both hands. "No more street corners. Either we'll find you a job you love that doesn't involve giving yourself to anyone else but me, or you can stay home and I'll take care of us both."

"On one condition," Scorpius returned, his expression just as serious. "No more street corners for you. I have to be enough. You can't go looking for another man. Or a woman."

"Every time I went out looking, I think I was just looking for you," James admitted.

Scorpius dragged him down for a kiss. "Well then it's a bloody good thing you finally found me."

James pulled back and smiled. "I promise," he murmured, trailing kisses across Scorpius' jaw, down to his throat. "It's only you."

"I promise," Scorpius echoed, his head tilting back as he moaned. "James..."

"Shhh." A finger pressed lightly against his lips. "Let me do this for you."

This was how it started, that James cared enough about what he felt. But this time Scorpius simply let go of the rules, of the annoying voice in his mind reminding him not to get attached. Instead he let his fingers tangle in those soft messy dark curls that framed James' face. He moaned again as kisses were dropped across his taut belly, from hipbone to hipbone, trailing lower until James nuzzled his already hard prick. He cried out when he felt warmth surrounding him, sucking him in, and Scorpius shifted his grip from James' hair to the sheets, grabbing for traction as his hips lifted. "James, oh _Merlin_. Don't stop. Feels good. Oh _please_ don't stop."

It felt so good. Too good, almost, like the world had come down to this moment, here and now, and Scorpius wasn't sure how to go beyond it. Could it get better or was this it? He spread his legs, giving James more room as hands cradled his bottom, one thumb circling his hole. Scorpius started to plead, wanting to be penetrated, wanting to give himself to James more than anything right then. Wanting sex. _Wanting_. But James just whispered, "Shhh..." The word was a hiss of warmth against Scorpius' thigh, as James nuzzled him, pressing his nose into the soft flesh by his balls and kissing him there.

Scorpius thought he could go mad from wanting. It had been good that first time, but James lavishing attention on him was almost more than he could bear. He felt everything. The tongue that lapped against his balls, then slid back, finding the sensitive spot between balls and arse, all the while a hand stroked over the head of his prick, spreading the small bit of gathered liquid. Scorpius ran out of words to beg, lost in wordless groans, hips lifting, unable to stop himself.

He whimpered when James pulled back, and he looked up, afraid he'd be left here, alone. That it was a dream and this was the moment of waking up. But James only looked at the door and reached out a hand, summoning lube from somewhere in the flat. Then two slick fingers pressed into Scorpius' arse and his eyes rolled back in his head as his whole body arched. James stroked him slowly on the inside, finding the perfect spot and dragging the pads of his fingers over Scorpius' prostrate until he was reduced to keening whimpers, prick so hard he thought he would burst. James wouldn't touch him, no matter how much he begged, only the soft huff of breath teasing his hot skin.

Finally James leaned up and over him, kissing him deeply and drinking him in, letting Scorpius drown in the taste of him.

"Please..." Scorpius begged.

"Yes," James whispered.

He put a pillow under Scorpius' arse, lifting him, pressing his knees wide to open him. Then James slicked his own prick, grinning when he saw Scorpius lick his lips. "Next time," James murmured. "I like your mouth. But I want this now."

He pressed in slowly, tangling his fingers with Scorpius', keeping his gaze fixed on his face. And Scorpius struggled to keep his eyes open in return, wanting to see the way that James' eyes finally rolled back, hiding the green as he groaned with the pleasure of it. Johns loved Scorpius' bottom, but James... James looked transported.

James stopped as he was fully seated, one hand on Scorpius' stomach, one on his cheek. "I love you," he said softly. "I'm sorry I was such a prick."

"I love you, too, you stupid git." Scorpius groaned, hips canting, trying to get more of him in. "Now just shut up and fuck me."

With a laugh, James pulled back, almost all the way out, and then thrust hard and fast until Scorpius cried out. Yes. This. Primal need and hunger driving them both. The sound of balls slapping against his arse, the feel of James' cock over his prostate. The knowledge that they were joined and one. Scorpius started to shake and he clung to James as the only thing that could possibly keep him anchored here as his orgasm built and finally swept him away with a scream, body taut and bowed, spasming around James. He felt that moment when James went stiff, groaning Scorpius' name as he spilled within him.

Moments fled, and when coherence returned, James was lying beside him, one leg looped over him, hand resting lightly on his abdomen. Scorpius sighed and murmured happily.

"We still have to come up with a name," James mused softly, his voice sounding very far away to Scorpius' ears.

"Mm. We've months before we have to do that. Plenty of time to argue." Scorpius breathed the words out on a sigh, fairly certain that they were out loud, but not entirely positive until James answered him.

"True." James nuzzled his throat, pressing a kiss until Scorpius moaned softly, and snuggled closer. "We still have a few far more difficult things to do."

"Mm?" Scorpius couldn't think what those could be. Just then, anything seemed possible, if he only had the energy, or desire, to climb out of bed.

"Tell my parents." James' voice seemed to be drifting away. "Tell your parents."

"It can wait." Scorpius grabbed James' hand, tucking it up against his heart like a stuffed animal as he rolled onto his side. Eyes closed, the world swayed around him. "The whole bloody world can wait."

James' chuckle was a low rumble that he felt all along his back, and he murmured again, trying to get closer. He felt another kiss press against the back of his shoulder, then felt James ease behind him, as if sleep started to catch up with him as well. "Probably right," James murmured. "None of it matters right now, as long as I've got you."

Held in his arms, Scorpius felt safe and protected. He knew that if trouble came, James would have him. That if they stumbled, they'd catch each other.

And as sleep beckoned, Scorpius trusted in James, and finally let himself fall.


End file.
